


𝜯𝖍𝖊 𝓢𝖊𝖑𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝓢𝖓𝖆𝐤𝖊'𝖘 𝕰𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊

by SaltyTeaLeaves



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyTeaLeaves/pseuds/SaltyTeaLeaves
Summary: Sir Pentious is a decadent dandy from an age long-since ended, and unfortunate for him? His body suits a certain suitor's sinful tastes all too well. A short sequel to "𝓐 𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖓 𝓗𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝕷𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖘 - 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝓦𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝕽𝖔𝔂𝖆𝖑𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕴𝖓-𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓."
Relationships: Lucifer Magne/Sir Pentious
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Introduction

  
The phone clicked. There is a wait. A moment of silence, that painful, agonizing ecstacy that is anticipation, before honeyed words drifted free of the speaker.  
  
"𝓗𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔, 𝓟𝖊𝖓𝖙𝔂."  
  
"I know you can hear me, dear, so let's talk, shall we? How long has it been, hm? A week? A year, perhaps? Oh I am so inclined towards losing track of time; that is a certain failing of mine. You're no stranger to such a notion, are you? Ah... Amongst other unfortunate tribulations, I'm sure you're well acquainted with the years slipping by."  
  
"We know what you've been doing. We've seen what you have set to do with those sharp, shiny claws of yours. How I miss them... Do you remember how my skin feels?"  
  
"Do you remember what your own felt like, before scales crawled across your rotting corpse, and your flesh turned bitter and slimy? Before your teeth fell out and fangs filled their place, and your eyes burned into crimson orbs filled with malice? Oh, my, dear I can hear your heart pounding."  
  
"How does it feel to be alive? Or, one supposes, the next best thing?"   
  
"But, as inclined as I am towards overindulgent monologues, there is a point to all this. You see, I find myself in need of your particular services. I will be arriving... perhaps not tonight, or tomorrow, but soon."  
  
The line hung heavy, like lead suspended with metal wires.   
  
  
  
"𝓥𝖊𝖗𝔂 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓."


	2. Act One: Fear

The chimneys stank of rotten wood soaked in gasoline, and their stench rose up high above Hell's many cramped, twisted buildings. Below the heavy smog, urchins stumbled by, dirtied and muddied as they tried to hawk their stolen wares and boot polishing techniques. The year is 1889, and a very nervous snake is looking back across the cityscape from within a 'very modern' sky-scraper. What was so-recently a being covered in grime and burns is now tightly squeezed into a custom fit suit, having been scrubbed, cleaned, and cleaned again by obedient imp servants.   
Just this morning he had been coated in oil, arms buried deep into the winding, buzzing insides of yet another mechanical automaton of destruction, down amidst the wretched populace, forced to drag himself through the filth and vile of the common folk.  
  
Now? Pulled back up once more to a familiar position he had lived his whole life upon, and yet all the same it felt entirely alien to him. The rules of the world were turned upside down within the inferno of suffering.  
Having ones body twisted beyond recognition tends to do that to them.  
  
"So you see," a voice that made the lithe demon's heart freeze up echoed across the spacious office, creeping around the satin red seat presently turned away from him. "It's all just good business, yes?" The room was the pinnacle of modernity - the marble floor was polished to a fine shine, the furniture was lacquered and glossy, and the statues this mysterious being of grand status had collected across the years were lined up neatly, orderly, and with pin-point symmetry in mind. Of all the ballrooms, the fancy castles, and resplendent manors a certain snake had visited in his life, none compared to the sheer authoritative weight this building carried. Every inch of it was exactly as he had wanted it.   
  
"I like to keep my orders in check. It's all very..." The chair turned about, and behind the desk loomed a pale man with the most horrendous smile the late Pentious had ever beheld. Each razor-sharp fang promised to tear the serpent's throat open, and his eyes shone with such mirth that there was no doubt he would enjoy it too. Eyes that hung beneath smoky eye-shadow glittered in the chandelier light. Eyes that, despite being quite normal for what one might imagine a human bore, struck a deep sensation of fear in the quivering serpent's soul.   
"...Professional." Lucifer grinned wider yet, his cherry red cheeks creased from his hearty enthusiasm.   
  
"O-Of coursssse, I can undersss-sssstand that." The snake clutched his new, crisp top-hat in hand, nervously digging his claws into the firm fabric. He felt miniscule compared to the other man, despite towering over the pallid, porcelain doll. "It'ssss all very-"  
"Do not repeat what I say, worm." The jab was swift, and destroyed Pentious already wobbling legs in this verbal encounter. He was putty beneath the angel's sharp nails, though the distance between the two was yet to be covered.   
  
"What I mean, and do not mistake what I mean with what you want, is that Hell is the most successful business ever. A veritable art-piece of functionality, even if to the mortal eye it appears discordant and disorganised. Music was strange to the ears of cave-dwelling cretins, so why should divine design be any different? It is my pride and joy, excluding my darling daughter. I run a tight program, with deadlines, and expected results." That last word sent a chill down Pentious spine, and every inch of his body screamed for him to flee this smiling thing. No matter how much the inventor applied scientific rationality to the creature before him, he simply could not shake the terror he felt just being in the man's presence. He felt like a mouse trapped in a lion's den - prey to be tormented to death over a very long, very excruciating period of time.   
  
"That is why I enjoy keeping these... territorial bickerings under control. The Pentagram is a rather sizable expanse, but never 'too' widespread. There will always be those that seek to take control of what is not rightfully theirs, and... I do imagine that in time there will come one who just wants to see it all burn. Just for the wicked joy of it all." He turned away from his guest, and stared out across his domain. His world of fire and pain and shadow, and above it?   
Heaven. The pure, clean, soothing warmth of it loomed well beyond reach, but still he felt as if he might just... touch it. Just once. Just once more.  
  
A scowl soon set into his face, covering up the pain and turmoil before turning once more to his scaled associate.   
"So, I bid you to not mistake me once more, for what I give I can take away far, far easier. Your soul, however short lived within my domain, is without a shred of doubt mine, and mine alone." Sir Pentious looked nervously at the floor, still expecting to see his shiny black boots, but instead greeted with his lower half of scales and eyeballs, shifting to and fro beneath him. God, he hated snakes.   
"As long as you fulfil your duties - maintain your portion of the pentagram - and do as I say? You will continue to bear my blessing. Do you understand?"   
  
"...Yessssss, your graccce."  
The angel tsk'ed, shaking his pretty head in disappointment. "No, I do not believe you do. Come. Closer." He beckoned at the serpent, who edged nearer. Just a few feet, which hardly impressed the king of all damnation, evident by the drawn out groan that escaped those pretty lips.   
  
"Closer, damn it. I'm not likely to bite." That was an absolute lie, one that the slithering sweetheart could see through. But, he would- could not deny Lucifer, and reluctantly came up to the Devil's intimidating desk. A sharp hand immediately jetted out from the smartly-dressed angel's side, wrapping itself up in Pentious' conditioned hair to yank him forward and partly onto the desk. He was within inches of original sin, drowning in its terrifying aura. The significantly shorter man stank of apple and burned flesh, and his breath was so nauseatingly sweet that it took every inch of mental fortitude the poor python still bore not to gag in repulsion. His sweet fangs may have demanded he drown in the most sickeningly saccharine delights imaginable, but this outshone even the most tooth-rotting toffees.  
  
"Who do you belong to?"  
The words refused to pry themselves from snake's forked tongue, but finally he managed to force them through his soft lips despite how his head spun around and about beneath the Angel's touch.   
"Y-you, ssssssir."  
  
This pleased the tiny man, who pulled Pentious in closer. Closer to his dark, satin lips, and deeper into those unnatural eyes. What was it about them that chilled Pentious' to his core? They looked the same as any other set, and far less alien than the many twisted pairs (and then some) within Hell, yet... those eyes. Their buried themselves so deep within him that he not only felt utterly naked before them, but like every flaw, every failing he had ever bore in the past was being dredged up and paraded for their amusement.   
"You will do whatever I ask?"  
  
Although clearly shaking, the slithering sycophant managed to nod through it all. The pain stinging at his scalp was icy, and unyielding.   
  
"Tell me, do you know who is on the other side of that wall?" He gestured to his left, passed the agonized figure of stone trapped forever in a pose of obvious anguish and to wallpaper of apple crests and haunting sigils. Sir Pentious shook his head.  
"My wife; my beloved, the most precious woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing. With such a fact in mind, can you surmise what you are going to do now? No, there is no need to shake your head once more. I already know you do not, and so I shall illuminate these matters." The charming king pulled Pentious up and onto the table without a shred of difficulty, as if he were dragging along a small poppet.   
"You are going to fuck me."   
  
Much to the horror of the sweet, scaled prick, he was dragged over the table and onto the tall-backed red seat with a shriek, quickly muffled. What was he to say? Was he to beg for mercy, or cry out for help? These goals soon proved themselves difficult when given the chance to behold Lucifer himself, in all his grace and glory, kneeling atop the desk. With a flick of his manicured nails, his blazer began to cinder and burn until it was upon him no more, leaving his strawberry-striped-vest clad back to the shivering snake.   
  
He cast a smile over his shoulder, entrancing his prey, and luring the serpent's pink stare down to follows his own gaze. Down to his tight slacks, which followed the way of his blazer and crept into nothingness, leaving his perfect, pale ass covered in a garterbelt featuring the most formfitting panties imaginable. What, Lucifer; the original sin, enjoyed attire atypical for his body? Perish the thought! Besides, the lacy underwear sat rather snugly around his gorgeous rump. A perfectly apple-bottomed behind for the apple-loving Beelzebub himself, who placed a firm, hefty slap upon the faintly jiggling rump just for good measure.  
"Did your Mother not tell you it is rude to stare? Hah, no, she didn't, did she, 'Monsieur Pentious'?" The terrified snake was hardly in a position to say anything before the demon was atop him, with his back pressed against Pentious' chest, and his derriere of ungodly soft skin grinding down on the trapped demon's lap.   
"S-s-s-s-ssssssir! Thisssss issss-"  
  
"Speak again and I shall bite your tongue out from your mouth and spit it onto the floor." His voice was harsh and grating - all that musical elegance that typically carried itself along with his words was abandoned. Now only an angel fuelled by twisted passion remained, and though no trumpets heralded his approach, he would take that which he desired with holy fury all the same.   
Lucifer shifted to the right, then the left, before settling into his new favourite seat. The cool touch of scales was not unpleasant in the least. Like leather on naked skin.  
Perhaps it was the fear, or just the will of Lucifer himself, that dear Penty was growing hot under the collar, and once again found himself wishing (for the umpteenth time that day) that he might have been permitted pants. The smokey sweetheart let his hands drift down the his own firm stomach, relish the sensitive nature of his own gold-marbled body, before he drew his hands down betwixt this thighs, and let his fingertips creep along the faintly visible slit from whence Pentious' lengths were bound to spring forth.   
  
"Before we begin," the angel teased, still dragging his hands up and down the soft scales of our terrified Victorian's most sensitive region.   
"You must remember that this, as it is happening right now, never happened. You can tell not a soul, and when I come knocking at your door? Not if. When. In that situation, you will do exactly as I say, you will do exactly what I want, and when I am done with you I will recall these very words to you once more. This ... never... happened."  
  
"O-Of courssss-sssse!"   
Lucifer leaned upon the armrest of his grand chair, drinking in the rich taste of his trembling prey's fear. "And you promise not to forget it?"  
  
"Y-yessss..." No quick retorts remained within the snake. Fear ran cold through his veins, turning his stomach over as the devil leaned in closer than what was due. So close that he could smell the mans cologne beneath the apple-orchard scent.   
  
"And will you forget me?"  
  
"Will you, Pentious?"  
  
  
"𝓦𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝔂𝖔𝖚?"


	3. Soliloquy of a Serpent

  
There is darkness. It is thick, and heavy, and weighs in all around you. It stretches on beyond the limits of your vision, conveying neither depth or distance. Before you, blinding brilliance burns your retinas in an explosion of white, carving shapes from the abyss and into your new, perceived reality. The shadow's absence drips over a figure donned in ash-grey silk and gold buttons, glinting off the polished metal studs and glimmering along the stretch of expensive fabric most beautifully. But his scales outperform even the finest gowns this evening.  
A veritable blood diamond polished to perfection, his eyes of crimson burn deep into your own. He clears his throat. 

  
"There are ssssome who believe the afterlife iss a period of atonement. Dante Aligheiri onccce wrote in hisss Divine Comedy thusssly; 'Conss-sssider your origin. You were not formed to live like brutesss but to follow virtue and knowledge.'" The scholarly snake took a second to stifle his laughter, before continuing with a more contained composition.  
  
"While there isss ssssome truth to thisss ssstatement, it isss clear Dante never truly found himssself within Hell. The truth of the matter isss far more akin to the living world than hisss perverted torture fantassssiesss presssumed, hiss."   
"The core of it all isss ssssimply 'Life, continued beyond itsss pressscribed period of consssciousssnesss, isss the definition of Ssssuffering'. We here, wretched ssssoulsss, exissst with only two optionsss presssent to usss. To subsscribe to a ssssentiencce that promissses extended pain and continued ssssuffering, or ssssuccumb to the yet unknown abyssss."  
  
Sir Pentious cast a wry, tired smile over his shoulder, before slithering about on the spot. His body twisted into the dark, no doubt stretching well beyond that which was visible. A stage figure, on a stage without course or props or cohorts. A lonely monologue in a dark place beyond beyond our touch.   
  
"Thusss, for thossse that continue to live (or, by effect? The closssessst we can manage), we mussst esstablisssh purpossse. What purpossse might we bow our headsss before cruelty and crawl acrossss cccccc-cccccindering coalsss for? Why, the very opposssite of jussst that; opportunity to ssssubjugate the weak, and 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖘-𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊." 

  
The stage is once again swallowed up into the sightless, inky dark. There is a hiss, and then?  
Nothing more, ever more.  



End file.
